


All You Live On (Is Stolen Moments and Borrowed Hope)

by Wakeywakey_bigmistakey



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Healing, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, This is after Horde Prime's defeat, redemption au (i guess?)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 02:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21845884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wakeywakey_bigmistakey/pseuds/Wakeywakey_bigmistakey
Summary: Horde Prime has fallen and now everyone is trying to figure out how to move past everything that has happenedOrThe gang heals
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Perfuma/Scorpia (She-Ra)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 99





	1. Chapter 1

There is so much silence, right when Horde Prime has fallen. No one really knows what to say, how to look into the eyes of people who had been enemies but had turned to allies when the cause became bigger than them. Than their fight. Years of animosity and violence separates them, but immediate survival has bound them.

Adora finds Glitter and Bow before anything else. They’re bruised and tired, but mostly they’re happy to catch their breath. Bow waves her over. His overly excited demeanor has always calmed her down. 

The three of them sit on what might have been a skiff, once, in the wreckage after what everyone is hoping will be the final battle. Adora doesn’t quite believe it, not yet. If there’s one thing she knows, it’s that the universe does not enjoy granting her breaks.

There are no banners in the makeshift camp that’s been erected after the victory over their ultimate enemy. No Horde wings glaring from the burned-out huts and no banners of Bright Moon swaying overhead.

Instead, the lines dividing the site slowly melts into the ground. Lonnie squats down next to Adora, deep furrow splitting her forehead. She looks older than Adora remembers her, much older.

“Adora,” she says, looking at her with serious eyes. “I’ve spoken with a lot of the old Horde kids and they’re scared.”

“How so?” 

“Well, they-” Lonnie says, eyes hitting the ground beneath them and refusing to go back up again, “- _ we  _ are afraid of retaliation for past crimes from the princess alliance.”

Adora looks to Glimmer, looks to Bow. Both of them kind raise their shoulders a bit. She wishes more than ever that someone would have an opinion. That it wouldn’t fall back on her. 

She sighs.

“When I changed sides, no one thought to retaliate because I had something to give to the alliance.” She pauses.

Lonnie finally meets her eyes, something flickering behind her hardened demeanor. Something like hope.

“I think you’ve all proven your allegiance to peace. We’re all tired of fighting.” Adora’s lips turn up, just a little. “I can’t promise that all will be forgiven, that there will be no hard feelings. But I hope that we can work towards leaving it behind us. I know better than anyone that most of you had no knowledge of what you were involved in.”

Lonnie smiles. There’s no more words exchanged between them, but they both breathe a bit easier. 

Bow sends her a not-so-subtle thumbs up and her heart soars; to do the right thing rests easy in her chest for once. 

Lonnie stomps over to Kyle and Rogelio. The sight of the three of them, caught up in easy banter and picking kindly, lovingly even, on Kyle; it makes something shattered long ago find rest inside her. But there’s a shard missing.

No one has really seen Catra since it all went down. Since she was the one to finish off Horde Prime. 

Glimmer was, to everyone’s surprise, the only one who spoke to her right when it was all over. The two of them quietly murmuring back and forth had both Bow and Adora’s jaws hanging somewhere near the floor. It didn’t help that they finished off their exchange with a brief hug.

Now, though. Now, Adora longed to speak with her friend. If they are friends? She can’t really figure out what they are. What do you call someone who saw every childhood mishap and mischief, every scolding and was present in the forefront of every happy memory? What do you say to someone who got separated by war and resentment?

“Adora.” It’s Glimmer. She’s looking more and more like Angella with each day that goes by. It pulls some unknown emotion swelling up Adora’s throat.

She meets the queen’s gaze, but even she knows that she isn’t really present. That her thoughts are swirling somewhere else.

“You’re going to leave a trail.”

Adora hasn’t even realized until then that she is pacing. It takes more than a little willpower to stop again. Glimmer has this knowing look, like she can see straight into her mind. It’s a bit unnerving.

“She’s at the edge of the Whispering Woods.” Her voice is deeper, now. She keeps eye contact like she has given an instruction and not a statement.

Adora gapes. Does the position of queen come with mind-reading abilities? 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, who you’re referring to, even-” Glimmer sends her this look, something like finality, and she corrects herself with a sigh. “I don’t know what to say to her.”

Glimmer shrugs. “I think the main thing is to say anything at all, right now.”

She’s right, of course. Which is how Adora finds herself scanning the trees for any sign of Catra. It takes longer than she thought it would, but eventually she spots the tip of an ear over a large rock a few meters into the forest. 

Stepping nearer cautiously, quietly, she finds Catra sitting leaned against it. Her hands are wrapped around her legs, folding her into herself. Her eyes are lost in the trees. 

What startles Adora, more than the scratches down her arms and the wound down her left eye, is her lack of the little half-mask that she’s always worn. From the time they had any say in what they wore, Catra has been wearing it. But not now.

She doesn’t acknowledge that Adora is there. 

“Hey, Catra,” she says, and curses how her voice turns unsteady. And three octaves higher than usual. Then she remembers that it must sound like an imitation of how Catra has greeted her every time they’ve fought and she can barely stand to exist in her own body for the painful awkwardness. 

Catra sits completely still, and if it wasn’t for her ears giving her away, Adora would have believed that she didn’t hear her at all. 

“I can’t listen to another lecture on the triumph of good over evil right now.” Her voice is barely audible over the wind in treebranches overhead.

“That’s not why I’m here,” Adora says, and it feels like a life-saving exhale.


	2. Chapter 2

Catra stares at her for a beat, then another. Her mouth quirks upwards, a gesture so small and quick that Adora nearly misses it. Nearly. Catra gestures to the ground next to her and Adora sits down, eyes turning to the woods like Catra’s.

“If you’re not here to lecture me, then why are you here at all?” Catra asks, voice barely above a murmur. It might have been supposed to come out tough, Adora thinks, but it sounds more defeated than everything. Her heart sinks.

“I’m, I just,” she starts, before realizing that she doesn’t really know. Just that victory seems so small in comparison to the prospect of getting her friend back. That it feels hollow and useless if it doesn’t mean having Catra in her life again. “I just wanted to talk to you. Y’know, like we used to.”

Catra keeps staring forwards, jaw clenching over and over again. Adora dares look at her, just a quick sideways glance, and finds that Catra’s eyes are welling up. 

They’re quiet for a long time.

“Why?” It’s low, it’s defeated, but most of all it’s broken. Adora is about to answer when Catra continues. “Why would you wanna talk to me? I’ve been terrible, done horrible things. I’m not worth it-” and she’s jumping up, she’s stamping around, her voice growing into a shout. “-I’m not worth it.” Falling to her knees, she covers her face in her hands and cries like she hasn’t since they were tiny kids. Since before she learned that it was only taken as a sign of weakness. 

Since Shadow Weaver punished her, first for playing too rough with Adora, then for crying about it.

Adora does what she’s always done when this happens, years peeling away and leaving just the two of them. She wraps her arms around Catra, holding her and running her hands through the tufts of hair just behind her ears. 

Still, they don’t talk. The only sound rising above the whispers from the trees are Catra’s sobs, wracking through her entire body. 

Neither of them know or care how long they sit like that. At some point, Catra’s sobs grow quieter and further in between. 

Finally, she raises her head and stare at Adora with shining eyes. “Why would you help me?” 

Adora meets her gaze steadily. “How could I do anything else?” It’s less of a question and more of a statement. 

They don’t talk, but they keep sitting there. 

Meanwhile, Perfuma is looking around the makeshift campsite. The invisible borders between former enemies. A (former?) horde soldier had crossed it earlier to exchange words with She-Ra, but as soon as they were done, the borders emerged once more.

Her fists clench. They are supposed to be allies now. What useless kind of allies can’t even talk to each other unless it’s with the purpose of fighting? 

She gathers herself up and walks across the site, plopping down next to Scorpia. A hush goes through the gathered troops, eyes turning towards them more or less conspicuously. 

Loud enough to make sure people will hear it, she asks: “How’s your tail? I saw you get hit earlier.” 

Scorpia looks at her warily for a moment, then breaks into a smile. “You know, I thought it was injured more than it really was. I went to the medic tent and they fixed it up, good as new-” and she rambles on, and Perfuma smiles, nods. Notices how quickly the lines blur as more people dare cross them.

How Frosta makes her way over to the horde soldier that talked to She-Ra, shyly asking about their training. Whether they can teach her so that it might be combined with her powers. 

Sees red uniforms mix into the rest of those gathered.

And she smiles and turns her attention back to Scorpia, still recounting her mishaps throughout the battle, her injuries now treated.

What she notices more, however, is the way the other woman’s shoulders fall, relax. The slight blush spreading across her cheeks. For the first time since they met, Perfuma allows herself to notice.

“Would you really do that?” Frosta asks, mask of indifference slipping away faster than it ever has. 

Lonnie nods, stoic smile transforming into something more relaxed. Softer. Frosta is looking at her with big eyes and damn if she ever thought she’d be teaching a  _ princess  _ how to fight, but she’s agreeing and nothing has ever felt more right. 

Kyle is standing behind them, idly chatting with Rogelio before he breaks into their conversation. His voice is different, somehow, less squeaky. “We can all teach you, if you’d like.” He bends his knees ever so slightly, aligning himself more with the tiny princess in front of them.

Lonnie meets Rogelio’s eyes, both of them surprised at this twist. At this new Kyle, whos is apparently good with kids. Who is apparently resting in himself. 

Frosta is looking at them brightly, with flames practically engulfing her in enthusiasm. And none of them can keep from smiling, from being affected with the pure desire to learn that has been stamped out of them for so long in favor of order, of the chain of command and the need to outdo each other. Learning for learning’s sake.


	3. Chapter 3

To say that it’s peaceful once they return to Bright Moon would be an overstatement. Years of animosity shine through quickly. All has not been forgiven. Not just because of the fight being over. 

What surprises most of them is the lies they can now dispel. The endless propaganda that turns out to be false, the prejudices learned throughout entire lifetimes. It hits the former horde soldiers the hardest. 

The cruelties they, more or less unknowingly, inflicted on the citizens of Etheria. The princess alliance as friends and comrades, rather than terrorists targeting peace and order. It’s in the lesser things, too. Celebrations. People following orders not out of fear, but out of trust. The lack of need for proving oneself in favor of others.

Adora finds herself spending quite a bit of time with her old squad, helping them adjust to this new reality. It takes them time to dare come to her with questions. The very same questions she’d had when she changed sides, when she joined the rebellion.

The same lies that needed correcting. The same guilt.

Kyle is the first to come knocking at her door, visibly shaking. His old insecurity is back with a vengeance as he stammers out that Frosta had asked when his birthday is, if Adora could please explain to him what that is and what exactly a  _ party  _ entails.

Adora doesn’t laugh, like he’s been fearing. She doesn’t yell. She explains to him, easily but in depth, about parties and cake, streamers and songs and celebrating the birth of a friend. Of sitting around a fire and of being given gifts simply in celebration of existence, not because of valor in battle or excellence in training, but simply because people enjoy having their friend in the world. 

Kyle leaves with his whole world upside down, but it doesn’t take long for word to spread. Adora will explain what is going on, Adora won’t yell or punish for ignorance. 

Rogelio has a hard time with the way of socializing and Lonnie can’t figure out if she’s being made fun of or if it’s really true, all these new facts and people who are genuinely interested in her. 

Countless soldiers of the former horde comes knocking, at all times of day and night, to gain an understanding of just what is going on around them. Adora answers each one. She remembers when it was her, when the mere thought of this new existence was new and frightening.

She spends the most time with Catra. Catra, who just can’t wrap her head around this forgiveness from the princesses, especially the one she’s targeted the most of all. How her old friend is so willing to become a new one. 

How blind she’s been. 

She doesn’t irrevocably love Bright Moon, not the same way that many of the former cadets do. Don’t enjoy the bed full of plush pillows and feasts made out of food that tastes  _ good _ , that outcompetes the ration bars even on the worst of days. 

It’s hard for her, to adjust to this new reality. To not being dumb, just because she doesn’t know or understand something. Adora sees it. The way she shakes, almost imperceptibly, when she accidentally sits on the chair permanently dedicated to the fallen. 

How she nearly flees when Frosta beats her in training, the way she awaits punishment for losing, to a  _ child _ of all people. She sees Catra waiting and waiting for a punishment that won’t come. 

Adora nearly cries. She almost can’t keep it in because  _ this _ , this need to be better, to never mess up and to feel the consequences of it when it does happen, it’s one she’s still battles herself. But Catra’s wounds are so fresh, not even entirely scabbed over. 

It’s bound to boil over at some point and when it does, the entirety of the castle hears.

“What is  _ she  _ doing here?” It’s Lonnie. Of course Lonnie would be the first to run into Glimmer on her way to a negotiation about the dismantling of the horde infrastructure left behind. Of course it’s Lonnie who sees her new queen, whom she doesn’t entirely trust yet, strolling down the hall next to Shadow Weaver.

Glimmer who stops, who looks at her nervously. Whose hands fidget more than someone entirely at ease with herself.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, cadet.” It had been collectively decided that there’s no need to change the title of the former horde soldiers, no need to make the switch harder than it needs to be.

“What I mean is,” Lonnie asserts, voice low and menacing. “ _ What  _ is this she  _ doing  _ here, walking around like a free woman.”

Glimmer blinks, looks at the two people who are locked in a staredown. 

“She’s my adviser, currently.”

Lonnie turns her gaze to look at her queen incredulously. “And what exactly do you imagine she can advise you on?” 

Glimmer stutters. She stutters and it’s all Lonnie needs to prepare to launch into an explanation of just who the queen is fraternizing with.

She doesn’t make it that far, however, before Adora and Catra comes strolling down the hallway. Adora who has finally convinced Catra that the castle isn’t full of people just waiting to rip into her.

They both screech to a halt. It would be comical if it wasn’t the tensest situation either of them has ever been in, the way everyone just pauses and stares at each other.

This time, it isn’t imperceptible: the way Catra’s chest rises and falls quicker and quicker. This time, everyone can read the telltale signs of panic radiating off of her.

She doesn’t say anything, she just stares. Her eyes remain detached, but they’re the only part of her that does. 

Shadow Weaver doesn’t say anything, she just stands there. It’s Lonnie that finally breaks the silence. “We’ve all done bad things-” and her eyes fall, her brows tighten. “-but no one-” and with tremendous effort, she look directly at Glimmer. “- _ no one _ , has more bad deeds, more horrible things, resting on their conscious than she has,” she spews, pointing a finger towards her former mentor. Her former leader.

There’s more silence filling the corridor for a long, long moment. 

Glimmer shifts from looking at Lonnie to Shadow Weaver, to Adora and, finally, coming to rest on Catra. Who is still tiptoeing the edge of hyperventilation. 

“If she even has a conscious.” Everyone gapes at Adora, surprised at the hostility in her voice. 

“What do you mean, I thought we agreed that she was useful to the rebellion?” Glimmer splutters.

Adora hasn’t taken her eyes off Shadow Weaver. “Yeah, to the rebellion she was. But to peace? She’s poison.”

Lonnie nods and Catra breathes, if only in shallow gasps. 

“I’m afraid these cadets have had unfortunate experiences with me, to which I fully admit, but we are all on the same side here,” Shadow Weaver drawls, and Glimmer is the only one who doesn’t clench her fists, who doesn’t look positively murderous.

“You’re the reason we ever fought for the horde, you and your damn  _ lies _ -” Lonnie is shouting now, and it isn’t long before Adora has joined in with a “you’re the most traitorous, scheming, evil-” and their voices melts in with each other, both letting out years of unspoken hatred, of childhood trauma.

The one Glimmer can’t stop looking at, however, is Catra. Until recently, her ultimate enemy. Both because of her place in the horde, but mainly because of her continuous shredding of Adora’s heart. Her unlikely comrade in their imprisonment at the hands of Horde Prime.

Catra, who can’t even tear her eyes off the floor and who is shrinking in on herself for every second spent in the presence of Shadow Weaver.


End file.
